


Starting over

by aussiemel1



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2018-10-14 07:20:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10531626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aussiemel1/pseuds/aussiemel1
Summary: Jason suffers a head injury and loses his memory.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love amnesia fics. But I have to warn you, this one has been sitting on my computer for about a year, so I don't know how much further it's going to go.

“Jason?”

The pounding in his head was unbelievable.

“Can you open your eyes.”

Hammers were beating his brain, concentrating on a point at the back of his head. With his eyes squeezed shut the sunlight was still too bright, the back of his lids were an explosion of colour and there was no way was he going to open them. He groaned his refusal and brought a clumsy hand to his face, smacking himself as he splayed fingers across his features, desperate to find pressure points that might alleviate the pain.

“Perhaps we should just carry him,” the voice said, steady but tinged with concern.

There was an affirming hum from nearby.

The prospect of being forcibly moved was alarming, a monumentally bad idea and gave him no choice but to reply. “Don’t.” The word echoed in his skull and made him gasp, made him press his fingers harder against his temples. “God,” he moaned, irritated and deep in misery.

“Jason, we must return to camp. We cannot linger in the forest, I fear for our companions.”

The argument was unpersuasive. The words were somewhat lost in the white noise of his brain but he understood the sentiment and was not at all inclined to shift. _In time_ , he thought vaguely. _Later_.

“I have willow bark at the camp. As soon as we return I can make a potion that will relieve your aches.”

That was actually tempting. Who knew what willow bark was? Or how effective it might be? But he was willing to try anything, swallow anything, if it offered the possibility of quieting his loud brain.

“Ok,” he breathed with reluctance. “Just - give me a minute.” Awareness and movement was going to require some care.

He slowly opened his eyes beneath his fingers, adjusted to the sliver of sun and gradually shifted his hand away, squinting at the onslaught of light. Lying on his back, looking toward the sky, the canopy of trees in his vision swayed lightly and it was hideously unbalancing, it made him swallow hard and quickly drag his gaze down, to the man crouched beside him, pale and skinny, fluffy blonde hair above blue worried eyes.

“There you are,” the man greeted in relief. “I was starting to think we would have to drag you into camp unconscious.” His eyebrows twitched. “And I can only imagine how Ariadne would react to that. It would not have been ideal.”

Jason regarded the man blankly, the conversation moving too fast, an overload of information that his abused mind couldn't follow.

“Jason?” The man peered closer. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” he returned mildly, still puzzling over the words, and the familiarity in the tone. Trying to place the face. Trying to align his thoughts.

“You look-,” the man creased his brow. “You look lost. Do you know what happened?”

Jason narrowed his eyes as he tried to force his mind to order, settle the whirl of thoughts, but they stubbornly refused to be settled, and knowledge stayed just beyond his reach. His memory felt close, like at any moment everything would click into place, but he couldn’t quite get there.

“I don’t remember,” he replied slowly.

As he shifted carefully to sit, the blond man offered, “You were attacked by bandits. I am afraid Hercules and I were slightly behind so you faced six of them alone. I don't know how many times I have said it Jason but we need to stay together and this is why. You may be a skilled fighter but no one man can overcome a violent horde. You are lucky you were not killed before we joined the fight. I think you forget how important you are.”

It meant nothing to Jason. He listened to the rebuke in a haze of confusion, slid his eyes around searching for verification of a fight, or of a horde, something to jog his memory but the surrounds didn't support the story, the area was tranquil, no one was threatening, and he had the feeling that he was mishearing or misunderstanding, it made no sense.

“Ok Pythagoras,” the big man interjected. “The massive hangover will be punishment enough for the boy, he doesn't need a lecture as well. Let's move before the bandits recover their senses and come looking for us.”

“Pythagoras?” Jason echoed, with the first welcome spark of recognition. “Like the triangle guy?”

The look of disbelief on the blond man’s face made Jason doubt his conclusion. He wasn't sure what had made him blurt it. Some innate instinct. That apparently was wrong.

“No, sorry, my mistake,” he back pedaled, feeling foolish, a flush rising in his cheeks.

The blond man studied him intently, his expression unreadable. “Do you know who I am?”

Jason swallowed and eyed the man apologetically. Clearly it was a leading question, and the answer was supposed to be obvious. “Pythagoras?” There was no confidence in the answer.

“Oh no,” Pythagoras muttered. “You don't, do you?” He gestured behind to the larger man. “Do you know who he is?”

Jason cast reluctant eyes to the second man, not sure why he might be more recognizable than the first and studied him for a moment trying to find clues to his identity. Big man, stout, thinning on top, older than the first by about a decade. He offered an awkward smile and there was a flash of something in Jason’s mind, a flutter of familiarity but it passed too quickly.

Jason averted his gaze self-consciously. “No, I’m sorry, I don't. I'm sure it will come but I'm-” he wagged fingers at his head, “having trouble thinking at the moment.”

The men gaped at each other in disbelief. A silence descended that Jason found uncomfortable and somehow accusatory. “When the head clears-“ he fumbled, “it should, you know, be fine.”

“What do you think?” Hercules directed to Pythagoras.

“I don't know.” Pythagoras ran a hand across his jaw. “Should we wait?” He cast troubled eyes at the big man. “Perhaps he just needs a few minutes to recover himself.”

“Perhaps,” Hercules agreed, not sounding hopeful.

“We cannot take him back to the camp like this,” Pythagoras stated. “What will the queen say?”

Again the conversation was moving too quickly for Jason. He puzzled over the clues, camp – queen – forest, and couldn't make the pieces fit.

“Can you just tell me what's going on,” Jason demanded impatiently. “Where are we? What are we doing here?”

“Think hard Jason,” the blond man urged. “Look closely at our faces. You must remember.”

It was easier said than done. Concentrating was a challenge. The thrum in his head was a distraction. And he didn't have a grounding point. He was looking at two unfamiliar faces, in an unfamiliar surrounding and he felt kind of adrift. He needed a starting point, he needed to find something familiar and build on it, but everything in his mind was vague and half known. He examined his companions, examined the surrounds, examined himself and after a few minutes, with his companions staring at him hopefully, he could only shrug helplessly.

“Should I hit him on the head again,” Hercules ventured.

“No!” Pythagoras and Jason simultaneously answered, with matching outrage.

Hercules raised his hands submissively. “I’m just saying… Knock him on the head and it may get the senses flowing.”

“Or it may kill him,” Pythagoras returned witheringly.

Hercules huffed out a breath. “A light tap. Don't be so dramatic.”

“Still no,” Pythagoras dismissed and shifted his attention to Jason, studying him closely for a quiet moment. “Do you remember Atlantis?”

Jason knitted his brow. “The lost city?”

Pythagoras blinked his surprise. “I believe we have already had this conversation. How can a city be lost? Are you going to tell me about a sub?”

“There's a sub?” Jason glanced around in confusion. “Is that how we got here?”

“What about your wife?” Hercules cut in. “Surely you must remember her.”

Jason's eyes rounded. “My wife?”

“The Queen of Atlantis,” Hercules prompted. “The most desirable woman in Greece.”

Jason palmed his forehead and closed his eyes, feeling ill.

“That's enough,” Pythagoras said glumly. “It is not helping. Let's just get him back to camp, perhaps the familiar faces might return his memory. Or maybe the oracle can offer a cure.”


	2. Chapter 2

When the men became visible through the trees Ariadne felt tension leave her shoulders, at the same time as irritation swelled in her chest.

“You have been gone for hours,” she chided, arching a brow.

Pythagoras walked at the head of the group, his face uncommonly solemn. He took hurried steps to reach the queen first. “I must speak with you,” he said urgently.

But Ariadne was looking beyond the man at her husband, noticing the unsteadiness of his gait, the slight stumble in his step. Something was wrong, something had happened and ignoring Pythagoras she strode to intercept Jason, awash with concern and a dull resignation at the constant danger that dogged them.

“What happened my love?” She wrapped her arms around Jason’s neck and held him close for a moment, finding comfort in his warmth and the feel of the embrace. Whatever had happened at least he had returned, and it gave her great relief. It silenced the latent dread of a day when it might not be the case. “Let me guess. You put yourself in danger and suffered for it.”

There was no comeback, either witty or irritated, Jason was stiff in the embrace and she drew back to look at his face. His eyes were wide, lips slightly parted and his expression was frozen. It was most unusual. She stroked a gentle hand across his cheek. “Are you alright?”

He blinked at the question, slid his eyes to Hercules and seemed lost for an answer.

“I really must speak with you,” Pythagoras insisted and Ariadne nodded absently as she released Jason, her eyes lingering on him, uneasy about his oddness.

“Come and get a drink,” Hercules quietly prodded the young man.

“Yes,” Jason breathed in fervent agreement. “Something hard.”

A wrinkle flitted across Hercules’ forehead at the request, and he gently propelled his friend with a hand to the back toward the campfire. He leaned to bring his mouth to Jason’s ear and murmured, “Did that bring back any memories?”

“No.” Jason pushed air through his teeth and flicked a glance over his shoulder. “Is that my wife?”

“Yes.”

“Bloody Hell. She’s gorgeous!”

“She is that,” Hercules agreed, finding humour in Jason’s discomposure. But then it occurred to him that if Jason didn’t remember the woman he adored, the woman he had spent years chasing, then nothing was going to jog his memory. They might be in real trouble.

Icarus and Cassandra sat beside the fire. Cassandra was staring intently at the earth in front of her, oblivious to everything around but Icarus’ eyes followed them with assessing interest.

“Everything alright?” Icarus inquired, too observant.

“Yes, fine,” Hercules dismissed breezily, figuring Jason didn’t need the complication of meeting more people. In an undertone he explained, “He is partner to Pythagoras. I will introduce you later.”

“And the woman?”

“Disciple of the Gods. She can wait as well.”

Jason knitted his brow but made no further comment, complying mutely with Hercules’ cue to sit on the sparsely grassed ground and drink from a skin of water.

When his friends were out of earshot Pythagoras blurted to Ariadne, “Jason has lost his memory. He doesn’t remember anything. Any of us.”

There was an uncertain pause, Ariadne waiting for more and Pythagoras lost for how to continue.

The young queen blinked in confusion. “Perhaps you should start at the beginning.”

“We were attacked.” Pythagoras took a breath to steady himself. “There were bandits in the forest and they attacked us. But Jason was walking ahead, so six of them attacked him first. He fought off most of them but when Hercules and I arrived he was on the ground and one of the bandits was rifling through his clothing looking for items to steal. We dispatched the bandit and got Jason out of there as quickly as we could, but when he woke up…” Pythagoras upturned his palms with a shrug. “There is a nasty lump at the back of his head, he must have been hit quite viciously and it has jumbled his brain. He doesn’t remember who we are.”

“What do you mean he doesn’t remember?” Ariadne was finding it hard to digest.

“I mean when he woke up it was like we were strangers. He had no idea of who we were. On the walk back to camp we kept expecting his memory to fall into place but it has not. It is most perplexing.”

“He does not remember _you_ ,” Ariadne said slowly, “but does he remember me? His wife? His queen?” 

“I am afraid not.” Pythagoras winced apologetically.

Ariadne shifted her gaze to where Jason sat. He looked so normal. A little tired maybe, a little the worse for wear, but in all other respects the man she knew, her husband. It seemed inconceivable that Jason could _forget_ her, after all they had been through, all they had endured together.  Even though she had just witnessed his odd behavior, the explanation being offered seemed far fetched and unlikely.

“Are you sure? Have you asked him?”

“Yes.” Pythagoras dropped his eyes to the ground. “He does not remember you. He does not remember having a wife." Another wince. "I am sorry.”

“What _does_ he remember?” Ariadne asked curtly, offended by the slight even if it was involuntary. And unwillingly disappointed by her husband's weakness of mind. “Does he remember Pasiphae taking Atlantis? Does he know that we are on a quest for the golden fleece?”

“No, he remembers nothing. Absolutely nothing. It is staggering how little he knows. I believe he would not know his own name if we did not tell him.”

Pythagoras actually found that scientifically interesting, that Jason’s mind was a complete blank and yet he still knew how to function, how to talk, what things were, how they worked. It was fascinating. And if it wasn’t so disastrous Pythagoras would have loved to study it and find out more about what was happening in Jason’s brain.

The queen was quiet for a few moments, her thoughts reeling. Usually she was sharp about grasping problems and finding solutions but this eluded her, she was overwhelmed by the enormity of it, and the ramifications. “What should we do?”

Pythagoras gave her a wan smile. “I am hoping the problem will correct itself. I believe after some rest his thoughts might straighten.”

Ariadne huffed. “That is not very encouraging. Surely there must be a better solution than hope.”

“If rest does not resolve the problem then I will confer with Cassandra,” Pythagoras offered with more confidence. “I am sure the Gods can produce a solution.”

“If they are minded to,” Ariadne returned dispiritedly. Relying on the Gods was even worse than relying on hope, they were notoriously contrary. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and gazed ruefully at her unknown beloved.

Pythagoras gave a small bow and took his leave. He ambled to his swag, giving a tender smile to Icarus on the way, and extracted herbs to make a sleeping draught. Suddenly and unwantedly he felt pessimistic that such a simple solution as sleep might cure Jason’s complex problem.

“Where are we exactly?” Jason pressed the large man. Hercules. Hercules and Pythagoras. It was funny that the names seemed familiar but the faces did not. There was an insistent notion that the name Pythagoras had something to do with triangles but he dared not raise it again.

“Just south of Pylos,” Hercules returned. “We visited Pylos two days ago.”

Jason nodded even though it meant nothing to him. “What did we do there?”

“We bought some supplies. Some bread and cured meats.” Hercules floundered for something memorable to relate. “I was chased by a dog?”

“Right.” Jason was pushing at his memory, desperate for familiarity, but nothing was grabbing hold. “And why are we camping in the forest?”

“Our boat is nearby. The Argo?” Hercules paused for recognition but Jason remained blank. “Every few days we come onshore, find some food and fresh water and take a break from sailing.”

“Where are we sailing to?”

“Colchis.”

Jason sighed heavily and scrubbed fingers through his hair. He’d never heard of Colchis. His head was thumping and the frustration of blankness was only making it worse.

Changing tack Jason continued to probe. “Have we know each other long?”

“About three years. We share a house, you, me and Pythagoras.”

Jason frowned. “I thought I was married.”

“That is only recent. Before that we lived as three bachelors.”

“How did we meet?”

“You dropped onto our balcony.” There was slight amusement in Hercules’ expression.

Jason tilted his head. “What does that mean?”

“It means you were running along rooftops and dropped onto our balcony. You would do better to ask Pythagoras about it, he was there, I came home later.”

“Why was I running along rooftops?” Exasperation colored the words.

“I believe you were being chased by soldiers.” Hercules raised his hands. “Don’t ask me why because I never did fully understand.”

Jason pressed fingers to his eyes and inhaled a noisy, agitated breath. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “This whole thing is ridiculous. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know who any of you people are. I’m supposedly married to some beautiful woman who happens to be a queen and I don’t remember any of it. It’s ridiculous. This can’t be real. Maybe I’m dreaming. Do you think that could be it?” He peered hopefully at Hercules from under his brows.

“I would love for it not to be real, believe me. It’s no fun on this side either”

Hercules glanced expectantly toward Pythagoras, ready for some intervention, eager for someone else to take over the question and answer and endure their closest friend as a stranger. It felt surreal and decidedly wrong. And Hercules had the undesirable thought that it was extremely inconvenient. The future of Atlantis rested on Jason. In this condition he was unknowable and not at all motivated to their quest. The citizens of Atlantis were relying on him to relieve them of Pasiphae's crushing tyranny and Jason was entirely unaware. He tried to quash the thought because it was not the most pressing problem but it niggled in the background.

Jason slumped backward, from sitting to lying on the soft turf, pushing the heel of his hand against his throbbing forehead as he stared at the darkening sky. That looked familiar, the sky hadn’t changed and there was some comfort in it, a feeling that he could piece together his life if he could recognize small things.

“I believe Pythagoras is making you a potion for the headache,” Hercules offered. “He is very good at potions. Let me see where he is up to.”

Hercules beat a hasty retreat to where Pythagoras was grinding ingredients, Icarus by his side talking in a low tone.

“Dealing with him in this condition is excruciating,” Hercules complained, without any preface to Icarus, on the assumption that Pythagoras had already revealed their predicament. “We are both being formal and polite and it is most unnatural.”

Pythagoras gave a small smile. “It would not kill you to be formal and polite.”

“Not with Jason! It is like being formal and polite to you.” Hercules held up a warning finger. “Don’t ever expect it.”

“I would die of shock.”

Hercules grunted his agreement, then cast his eyes at their young friend, clutching his head and clearly suffering. “Do you think Jason will recover his memory?”

“Yes,” Pythagoras returned decisively. “This is not his destiny. This is a test from the Gods and he will pass it, as he has passed all tests.”

“Do you think he will recover his memory soon? Because I don’t know how long I can stand him in this condition.”

Pythagoras kept his face impassive and didn’t reply, not wishing to express false hope.

Hercules sighed, understanding the implication of the silence.


End file.
